


Lavender Dream

by genderfluidslytherin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aversion Therapy, F/F, F/M, Genderfluid, Group Therapy, I hate tagging, John winchester can burn in hell, M/M, Multi, conversion camp, destiel is also a thing oKAY, f-slur, gay very gay, genderfluid charcter, mary is dead in this, pansexual peace signs, q-slur, sabriel is a fucking thing, that ending is like the cursed child i am RENOUNCING IT
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27651233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genderfluidslytherin/pseuds/genderfluidslytherin
Summary: This is very short because I do not have the fucking strength to do this today. basically, he gets reported for being gay and trouble insures
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel & Sam Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9





	1. Honestly, Fuck You Alexa

**Author's Note:**

> This is very short because I do not have the fucking strength to do this today. Honestly y'all this is not my best work, I promise the next chapter will be longer and better.

November 23, 1950:

“I had sat next to Alexa that day. She had done her usual, grumbling about Bio and how the boys here were too aloof and hot. That, my friend, was when I made my fatal mistake. Sleep deprived and punch drunk on the cool fall air or freedom, I had said, “he really is a hot one isn’t he?”

If only I could, I would rewrite history. (I really wouldn’t, I just wanted to say that. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have seen Sammy again.)

Her response, of course, was, “Oh my god are you a f*g?”

To which I could only say, “no, I just like dick.” Honestly, in hindsight, I should really stop making choices based on how funny I find them. Very bad life decision. 

Disgusted, all she did was move away from me. I thought it was all a regular Thursday, slurs being thrown around social ostracization coming to me in new levels. Later, I wished I realized exactly how abnormal this Thursday was going to be, so I could beat that snitch Alexa up.

Alas, I did not. Instead, I yelled at my father and lost my role model. You see, later that day, at 12:06 exactly, both Dimitri, that sexy Greek bastard, and I were called into the Principal’s office. I was expecting to be told I was valedictorian and Dimitri had just gotten another letter from his sister again. That bitch was always getting him into all sorts of trouble, and with his gorgeous green eyes, I always ended up in it with him. 

Alas, I did not become valedictorian, and Dimitri’s sister was not lettering him. However much I wished that this visit was so innocent, it was not meant to be. If it was, I wouldn’t be sitting here, talking to y’all. 

That day, at 12:20 am (they made us wait until his wife left, and if you ask me, they weren’t screaming in pain) my dad arrived and dragged me into the office with him. Dimitri, of course, lightly trapezed in, delicately announcing his sexuality through stereotypes. 

Pulled roughly in by the jacket, I sat in the chair directly in front of Principal Hawthorne, my dad hovering over me like a vulture. What happened next, to this very day, I never quite understood. Hawthorne, the man who said that grins were the sign of a coward, SMILED. At my deadbeat, sorry excuse for a father. John Winchester.

“John, are you still free on Friday for golf?” Were his exact words. Even stranger still, my father didn’t even fucking play golf, but he still said yes. Even now I think that it was code for “strip club” or “teaching how to abandon your kids 101”. I’m not sure though. They might have been playing golf… with babies’ heads.

While I sat there, marveling at the event that had just taken place, my fate marched onwards towards its doom. 

Steepling his hands, Hawthorne finally told us the dire news, “There have been rumors… about your son, Mr. Winchester.”

“What are they? They can’t possibly be that bad, after all, he’s nothing like Sam and I was the one who raised him,” my dad said, refusing to believe I was anything less than perfection in front of an authority figure.

“Well, Mr. Winchester, your son is mentally ill.”

“My son does not want to die or shoot someone. As of yesterday, his main goal in life is to, in his words, “bang a chick”.”

“John,” he stood up and place his hands over my dad’s, “your son is a homosexual. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this.”

Abruptly jerking back, my father exclaimed, “No son of mine is no f*g!”. Then suddenly, I didn’t have a dad. I had a father.

Really, I had thought, you must be so crude? And for the dear lord’s fucking sake. I’m wincing at your grammar. Outside however I was much ruder. Wincing, I spoke up and ever so gracefully said, “ Darling, I ain’t no f*g I’m queer fucking queen and you can kiss my ass you S.O.B.”

“How dare you take that tone with me!” he spat.

“The moment you called me f*g is the moment you lost your last son.”

Still watching the scene in front of him, Hawthorne stood up. “John, Dean. There are some options we need to talk about. Please sit down.”

Furious, my father sat down and stared stony-faced at the papers put on the table. Looking through the flyers, he flipped through a couple before settling on a bland looking conversion camp option. Tapping his fingers against the page, “This one. I know about this one. It works.”

Even though through all of this Dimitri had been silent, he chose now to speak up. “Conversion? I highly don’t suggest that the methods at them are brutal!”

Brutally glaring at Dimitri, John had delivered his swift verdict. “It’s decided. He’s going starting next week. You’re lucky you’re not coming too, the only reason you’re not is because you’re European. You’re all queer over there.”

Now I’m in front of y’all. Basically, that’s how I got here.” Dean finally finished his story, rolling over to look back at the Rapunzel-esque moose who asked him to start it in the first place.”

“Wow, Dean-o, I thought you were caught having sex or something,” Gabriel said, talking even before Sam could get a chance, “Seems more your style.”

“Well, sweetheart, I couldn’t go out and steal your boyfriend’s move.”

Turning to Sam, Gabriel smirked, the opportunity for another embarrassing story a good prospect. 

“Really, Squatsach, Why haven’t I heard it?”

Sam playfully shoved Gabriel back, and rolled his eyes, “because, half-pint, I’d never live it down.”

Gabriel turned back to me and clapped his hands together like a jester. “Spill.”

Yawning, I tried to gracefully refuse but ultimately ended up sprawled out on my bed, “no, dumbass.”

“Fine.”

“An hour later, I still wasn’t asleep and apparently neither was Gabriel. “Dean, ya really gotta tell us.”

Rolling over I smiled at the small bottle of bitchness and sass. “Tomorrow”

Almost snoring, his final words were, “ya better.”


	2. You Look Better in Purple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel, the new roomate arrives, and has to survive through group therapy and church

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! It's the end of term and I am hellla stressed and wrote this while pulling an all nighter! Anyway, hope you enjoy, fuck andrew dabb <3

December 12, 1950:

I woke up feeling like crap. 

No one told me that conversion camp would be like this.

Sure, I’d heard rumors, but they didn’t tell him that you could be woken up at 6 am by a preppy cheerleader named “Janice”.

No. They left out dumbasses who would try their best to deteriorate you into their perfect image of as they put it, “the generation of the future”.

Luckily, today I was going to get a new roommate. Not the most exciting prospect, but hey, ya’know. Between mandatory church sessions and bland food, there isn’t much here to be excited about. 

Walking outside into the cold December air, I grumbled something at Janice and walked immediately back in. As much as I would love to meet someone new in this hellhole, it was 6 am. It is not a reasonable hour of the day to do  _ anything _ . Sam and Gabe were still asleep, and I was about to rejoin them.

Hours Laters, I woke up to a girl wearing a purple dress and unpacking a seemingly endless collection of pencils and a gigantic, also purple, sketchbook. 

I unceremoniously rolled off my bunk, landing at a heap her feet. 

“Nice cock,” I said. 

“What the fuck,” she said.

Standing up, brushing the dirt off my shoulders, I realized how stupid what I just said was. In my defense, I have weird coping mechanisms. That’s what having a fucked up childhood does to you. 

“So, what’s your name?” I said, deciding that if I was going to have to live with this person for god knows how long, it was okay to be awkward.

“Castiel,” she said, carefully angling away from her arm while pulling yet another ( _ seriously, how many did she have _ ) pencil, “but seriously, why did you say I have a nice cock?”

“Sometimes I talk without thinking.”

“I can tell,” Cas smirked, “I suppose being good looking means you didn’t have to think as much.”

“Well,” I said, tilting my head, “being beautiful didn’t hurt for you either.”

Laughing, she smiled up at me, “So, I heard there are 2 other roommates here. Where are they?”

“Well,” I said, “Sammy is at group therapy right now but the fungus who’s always attached to him is in the first shift of acolytes for this month.”

“Hey, is that the thing where you help out with church preparations?”

“Yeah,” I said, cocking my head, “how did you know that?”

“Well”, she said, holding up her welcome paper, “I grew up in a religious family. And besides, I think I’m on that shift too.”

“If you want, I shrugged, “I can help you get to the church…”

“Sure”, she sighed, “if I’m going to get out of this dump then I probably act all churchy.”

“Sure Cas, but it’ll be a shame to watch you leave, even if I get to see your ass as you walk out.”

“Dean!”, she exclaimed, slapping me, “that’s so crude!”

“My specialty”, I winked, starting to lead her out to the church where the acolytes got prepared. 

Walking across the green, I gave Cas a semi-tour as we reached the church. 

When we reached the church, I pointed her towards the acolyte room, “here, I’ll walk you to it. Might as well catch up with Sammy anyway, he said he had chapstick and my lips are a hellsite right now.”

“Are you sure?” Cas winked, “or is it just an excuse to spend more time with me?”

“Relax dude, I just met you. Besides, I’m a classy lady. Don’t objectify me.”

“Objectify you?” She exclaimed, wrapping a pale arm around my shoulders, “I would  _ never _ .”

Casually laughing, I shrugged the midget off my shoulder and slung her towards the acolyte door, “there, the robes are in the closet and I can help you tie the knot on the robe if you have trouble.”

Slipping into the door Cas flashed up the classic pansexual peace signs and disappeared.

Not even minutes later, I heard a voice from behind me and turned around to see Cas wearing an untied robe holding out a rope

“You look better in purple.”

“I know, it suits my eyes,” she winked.

Fumbling for a moment I tried to recover from my flusteredness, only to fall at her feet. Again.  _ The second time today. _

“See you after chapel,” I said, clambering up and quickly walking away, not even bothering to try to finish tying the knot.

“Wait what?” she yelled,” after chapel? Isn’t it required?”

“Yeah!” I yelled back, twisting around to present a crooked grin, “I’m just a  _ model _ student.”

\--- 

After chapel, I met Sam and Gabe behind the church. This time, Cas joined us.

As it was “tradition” (at least according to Sam and Gabe), newcomers had to carve their initials into the telephone post by the chapel.

Honestly, I’m doubtful that most of those initials are true, and  _ highly _ suspect that Sam just a bunch of random letters in as an excuse to spend more time with Gabe. 

Surprisingly, when we reached the pole, Cas already had a knife. Simple and short, she carried the pocketknife with determination, and yet, a touch of hesitancy. Like she had used this before. 

She carved her initials into the telephone post, CN (Castiel Novak) then dropped the pocket knife into her pocket like a hot iron.

“Come on, let’s go,” she crinkled her paper, pointing at a small schedule in the corner,” don’t we have ‘group therapy’ next?”

“Yeah,” Sam snorted, “If you can call it that-”

“Why? Don’t they like, try to help you and shit?”

“Honey,” Sam said, leaning down to Cas, “they try to convince us that we’re freaks and that they can ‘fix us’. They don’t help us. They hurt us with their bullshit.”

“Sasquatch has got a point,” Gabe interjected, “last week they made me look at a picture of my ex when I was getting slapped. Their excuse was ‘aversion therapy’ but in reality, all that happens here is abuse.”

Wincing, Cas merely nodded, “C’mon Dean, I think we’re in the same group.”

Sam and Gabe exchanged a look and laughed.

“We’re all in the same group. Since It’s so small of an institution they’re able to fit the upperclassmen and lowerclassmen into just two groups. Since we’re all freshmen and sophomores, we’re in the same group by default.”

“Oh what a joy”, Cas exclaimed sarcastically, “I just can’t wait to pray the gay away.”

\--- 

Today the group leader was Sam, tasked with “sharing his journey to the path of Christ”. Unsurprisingly, Sam tried to make his story last as long as possible, making sure to include every dirty detail. After all, if my baby brother didn’t take up all the time, they would make Gabe talk (who they were still convinced could become straight) and Sam would do anything to prevent that.

“Now remember,” said Karen, the group leader, after Sam was done explaining how his father threw a bottle at his head when he found out, “your parents always have your best interests at heart. That’s why they sent y’all here and taught you about the problems of homosexuality and the wrongness in God’s eyes.”

To this most of the group just said amen, half actually believing it, and the other half not wanting to have to go through anything worse than what they already put up with.

Unfortunately, Karen wasn’t done yet.

“Today we have a new member of our group, and she not only struggles with homosexuality but also with transexual tendencies… Castiel, please stand up.”

Castiel stood up, wincing slightly at the description, “Hello y’all. I’m Castiel Novak, and I struggle-” she stopped for a moment to put the air quotes around struggle, “with homosexual and transsexual tendencies.”

Karen did not appreciate the air quotes. 

“Now Castiel. That is no way to approach this journey. If you enter with negativity in your heart, god and his servants may have to turn to harsher methods to make sure that you stay on the path and are able to pray the gay away.”

“Of course Mrs. Karen,” Dean interrupted, “I’ll make sure to help Cas work through her issues-” I also put the air quotes “‘especially whenever they feel any ‘homosexual’ tendencies popping up.”

Karen smiled at this, choosing to ignore the air quotes.

“Thank you, Dean. Y’all seem like you would make a very cute couple.”

We both blushed at this and promptly sat down, hoping to save ourselves from any more embarrassment.

Sam smirked at this across the room to Charlie, a lesbian with a Marilyn Monroe straddling a dice tattoo, both clearly amused by the encounter.

“Now!” Karen clapped her hands together, “Let’s all wrap this up with a prayer, and then a rosary for our dear friends Castiel and Dean.”

Obediently kneeling, the group prayed for the traditional our father, and everyone left, except for Cas and Dean. 

Once they were all gone and only Dean, Cas, and Karen remained, she sat them back down.

“So I know Castiel just moved here, but we’re planning to put y’all in aversion therapy together, in hopes y’all can be like Bobby and Jo,” she said, beaming at the idea. 

Once again, both of us mutely nodded and worded our appreciation for the hope in us in noncommittal throat noises.

Karen then let us leave, and for that day, the worst was over. 

I didn’t enjoy this as much as the days I when I lived in an actual house, but having Cas here helped me a little bit


End file.
